Baby, It's Cold Outside
by CynicalAuthoress
Summary: It's instinct, feeling like someone loving him is a lie and he plays into it with every insecurity. NC-17. Smut Ahead.
1. Ohhh, Games

Title: Baby, It's Cold Outside

Author: Bynamearose/CynicalAuthoress

Fandom: Vampire Diaries

Rating: NC-17

Pairing(s): Damon/Katherine

Summary: It's instinct, feeling like someone loving him is a _lie_ and he plays into it with every insecurity.

Warnings: Sexual Situations, Mature Language, Violence – IDK, the works.

Notes: Started writing this in December for my Datherine Christmas Lingerie manip and forgot about it.

Disclaimer: If I owned this show, Damon and Katherine would have had car sex. Unf.

* * *

><p>"Are you done pouting?" she asks mockingly.<p>

She's nearly naked, clad in a black camisole that reached mid-thigh, keeping her skin covered in thin, sheer fabric. It's a temptation Damon doesn't really appreciate at the moment, though – not when he's this angry and not when she's this nonchalant about things. If anything, he could rip the fabric to shreds and not give a damn.

Well, he'd _try_.

"That depends. Are you done teasing?" he sneers, not moving towards her. Instead, he nurses a glass of bourbon, only setting it down as Katherine steps out of the archway between his bathroom and bedroom.

"So, I played a little game." Katherine scoffs lightly, licking her lips as she crosses slowly over to him. "Would you really want me any other way?"

And, like that, Damon grips her shoulders tightly, pulling her towards him, hovering above her lips. Her eyelashes flutter momentarily, like they shouldn't after so many years of being held too roughly, and she sees the look of satisfaction before it even crosses his face. He's teasing her, she realizes, and prides herself on not breaching the distance between their lips.

"You think every man would want you any way he could have you."

She smirked, her perfect lips curving into a malicious grin."Aren't I right?"

"Maybe," he relents, just a bit. "But don't confuse _wanting_ you with _needing_ you." He pulls her tighter against him; he feels everything, knows every curve and every action he provokes in her, from her nipples hardening like pebbles against his chest to the wetness between her legs that, if he weren't so intent on punishing her, he'd dip down to taste. Her eyes are dark, but her grin is still there, and that keeps him from doing anything in her favor.

Damon stares into her eyes directly, speaking lowly, "It doesn't mean I can't throw you out for the night, or for the rest of eternity, for that matter."

There's a fraction of a second where he can see the flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, quickly covered by a pout of skepticism.

"Like I haven't heard that before-" she starts, but his hands crawl up her thighs, under the camisole, and her breath catches. He smirks as he presses a hand against her core and Katherine stifles a moan. She wants to buck her hips to encourage him, but, when she looks up into his eyes, his lips are feverishly pushed against her own, dominating her breath.

There's something wrong about this, so rushed and indifferent.

But no one gets her off quite like Damon, and if this is what will release his frustration, she's not exactly complaining.

He slips one finger, then two, inside her, smirking as he finds her warm and wet and waiting eagerly. He releases her mouth and Katherine immediately gasps, one hand clenched around the sheets of his bed and her hips arching to his touch. He increases the pace of his thrusting fingers, thumb circling her clit, and finds himself memorizing every mewl of pleasure, every sound she makes. He remembers how it sounded as a human: fulfilling, carnal, passionate, amazing – hell, it's still fucking amazing. He thinks that he's never found anything quite this erotic in his life, even after one-hundred-and-forty-five years of searching.

There's a pang of reality and disappointment when he remembers why he's doing this in the first place.

He withdraws his hand, expressionless, and Katherine's eyes pop open as she glares and warns, "Damon..."

"Katherine." He flashes her a smirk, sitting back on the bed indifferently, and, one by one, sucks off his fingers. He moans lightly around the second one, licking his lips once the finger is clean. He won't be the only one feeling pangs of jealousy tonight.

She resorts to a different tactic, realizing she's clearly unforgiven. "Damon, please."

Damon doesn't smile or smirk this time, only looks up at her once before shrugging.

"Fine," Katherine says, raising her eyebrow before using supernatural speed to pin him onto the bed. She kisses him deeply, tasting herself on his lips, and her hands thread through his hair, but he's as unresponsive as he can be, like he's dead under her. Katherine almost groans.

She's actually going to have to work for her orgasm. Joy.

She unbuttons his shirt, grinding her hips along his, and tracing the skin she exposes with every button with her tongue. Her hands are rough as she removes his shirt, and, once it's off, her touches are light and gentle once more, a finger tracing the dark patch of hair leading into his pants. They lock eyes, dark brown against startling blue, and he gives a grunt of pleasure when she finally grasps his hard on, she slowly strokes him once, twice with her hand.

She smirks up at him seductively. "Consider this my apology."

There's a pause and, in an instant, Damon flips her over, pinning her arms above her head. She could easily throw him off of her, but the pleasure-pain from his hands tight around hers, his hips grinding against hers, and the heated gaze he gives her is all getting to her.

_It's a game_, she thinks,_ and, fuck, does he know how to play just right._

He leans into her, face centimeters from her own and she think she finally has him. She's got him between her legs, ready to take her just like she wants him to, and the thing she wants more – his lips on hers, their rhythms perfectly matched – is just a few pieces of clothing away.

"Not good enough," he hisses, his eyes darkening.

He lifts off of her slowly, like its nothing. He doesn't speed out of the room or tell her to go screw herself, like he's been known to. He doesn't even give her those wide blue eyes that speak of hurt and betrayal, the ones that affected her more than she liked to admit and she hoped she'd never cause again. He smooths out his dark shirt, not bothering to button it up, and grabs his jacket off the coat rack. He nears the door when Katherine speaks, eyes dropping shut as she finally finds her voice.

"Damon," Katherine objects, confused and frustrated all at once.

Damon pauses, turning around only to meet her eyes blankly. "When does it stop being a game, Katherine?"

Even though, deep down, she knows she deserves it, Katherine feels her heart fall as he walks out the door.

* * *

><p>TBC...<p> 


	2. Something Wrong With Me Inherently

Title: Baby, It's Cold Outside

Chapter Two: Something Wrong With Me (Inherently)

Author: Bynamearose/CynicalAuthoress

Fandom: Vampire Diaries

Rating: NC-17

Pairing(s): Damon/Katherine

Summary: It's instinct, feeling like someone loving him is a _lie_ and he plays into it with every insecurity.

Warnings: Sexual Situations, Mature Language, Violence – IDK, the works.

Notes: Started writing this in December for my Datherine Christmas Lingerie manip and forgot about it.

Disclaimer: If I owned this show, Damon and Katherine would have had car sex. Unf.

* * *

><p>Katherine thinks, all too foolishly, that things will find their way back to normal on their own. She thinks that he'll come back, he'll stay around, secretly waiting on her to apologize. Later, she tries to brush off the fact that she's wrong there, as well. She thinks, as a last act of arrogance, that she can wait for him, she can hide in dark corners and catch him off-guard, charm him, reason with him, if need be. But she's wrong again.<p>

Because she can't wait and she can't catch him and she thinks that she's so very, very wrong – because in order to do any of these things, she has to find him.

And he's gone.

For the record, Katherine Pierce doesn't like being wrong.

What she dislikes even more is having to _admit_ that she's wrong.

Her pride is too important to actually ask Stefan if he's seen Damon, but the ability to hide herself in the most mundane of situations comes in handy as she observes him from afar, hoping in vain that Damon will find his brother like he – always – eventually does.

In addition, she finds her Gilbert look-alike a regular presence in Stefan's ventures, which crosses a few theories off of her list and, though she's sure she's imagining it – some bad blood, maybe - brings a slight pang of relief down upon her. She ignores it.

She stops in at the Grill, but, if he's there, it's when she's not, and nothing quite hits a nerve than the history teacher giving her that knowing glance of amusement and watching her approach the bar. Alaric chuckles behind her softly as Katherine compels herself a free shot and, after a brief burn down her throat, three more.

Finally, after she's sat down and given two more shots the same treatment – because, fuck this, she's Katherine Pierce and if she has to go through with this, she's drinking the entire bar under the table – he seems to have some pity.

"He was just here."

Katherine's heels click against the floor as she stands and pretends not to have heard him, downing the tequila without an ounce of remorse. She doesn't dignify the strange, much-too-aware glances of Stefan and Elena when she walks past them, instead strutting her way to the alley, where she can hear the sound of two teenagers making out feverishly against a brick wall.

After compelling his little doe-eyed girlfriend away, Katherine thinks it's been too long since she last fed from someone so full of the lust and adrenaline that pulsed through his veins. She buries her fangs into the boy, relishing in the taste.

When she drops him to the ground, he isn't dead, but he won't remember a thing.

Katherine, however, does remember. She remembers dark hair and blue eyes and, not for the first time, finds herself wishing she could tear Damon limb from limb for making her do this – feel like she swore she never would and act in ways that tore at her pride like her fangs in a pretty boy's throat.

Of course, when Stefan finds her, it's not feeding on some innocent little human, it's in the library of the boarding house, pretending to busy herself with a book that could barely be called literature. He stops at the doorway, watching her silently before she tires of his gaze.

"If you're going to say something, I suggest you get it over and done with." But, then, Katherine gives him her best flirtatious expression, a small little smirk playing on her lips as she teases, "However, if all you're going to do is stare, I have no trouble giving you something worth looking at."

Stefan rolls his eyes and Katherine raises her eyebrows playfully before shrugging innocently – because that's who they are, and she knows, without question, the answer to that proposition will never be anything close to a yes. She never expected anything different.

"You miss him." It isn't a question, but a statement, and that damn knowing look – the one they _all_ have and makes her want to rip their hearts out and shove it down their throats – is as clear on Stefan's face as the indication that this was a revelation to him. Stefan approaches her, puts a hand on the back of the chair across from her. "Damon."

"I've gone a long time without company like your brother's." This time, Katherine rolls her eyes and snaps the book in her hands shut. She's matter of fact when she reminds him, "It's not like I can't find someone else to occupy my time."

"So, this last week must have been pure, unadulterated boredom for you." Stefan's mouth twitches. "And, yet, you're still here. Alone."

Katherine tries not to let her irritation reach the surface. She opts to smile seductively. "Not alone, Stefan. What if I'm here for you?" Stefan stiffens, and she places the book on the end table, standing from her chair with ease. "What if I'm waiting for the perfect moment to snatch you up and have my way with you?" She slithers against the armchair his hands rested on, her words perfectly enticing. "What if this is all an act just to win you back?"

"Then, you've been doing a horrible job these last few months, and you know it." Ever persistent, Stefan doesn't falter, instead simply crosses his arms. "Face it, Katherine. You wouldn't still be here if you didn't care whether Damon comes back, which you obviously do. You wouldn't stay in his room, wouldn't look for him everywhere you go." He pauses. "You care about him. More than I've ever seen you care about him."

"I seem to remember someone telling me that I couldn't care about anyone," Katherine says eventually, her voice low as she locks eyes with Stefan, "That I was incapable of love."

Stefan meets her eyes firmly, tilts his head. "Maybe I was wrong."

"You weren't." Katherine can't help but shake her head, her eyes as sharp as flint when she looks up at him again. "Love isn't a luxury I can afford. I won't let it get in my way, not for _anyone_."

The younger Salvatore nods eventually, turning away and silently walking towards the door.

Katherine thinks she's won this round, thinks she's been ridiculous, thinks that Stefan has just reminded her of the one thing she should have never let pass her mind. She is not made for love, in the same way that she is not made for Damon; she is Katherine Pierce, no longer the foolish girl that thought love was the most meaningful thing life held – _life_ was meaningful to life, surviving and _really_ living it, be it through a trail of drained bodies or sunbathing on some remote island. That was the life and purpose of Katherine Pierce.

"By the way," Stefan says before he leaves. Katherine almost scoffs because _'What now?_' is on the edge of her lips before she can control it, and only reluctantly does she listen. "There's a hotel just a mile outside of town. Ric said he saw Damon's car in the lot." Stefan shrugs, smiling pointedly. "If you care."

She thinks, again, that she _doesn't_ care and it should have occurred to him that this whole conversation had been a pointless waste of time.

Because she doesn't care. She can't care.

All in all, Katherine really does hate being wrong.

She realizes, after a moment, when she can't help but let out a frustrated sigh, that she was very wrong. Like a freight train, it hits her, hits her suddenly and without warning (or maybe there was warning, and she just never yielded to the signs). The urge to sigh in relief. The urge to find him. The urge to kill him. The urge to plead with him.

She realizes she's been wrong in the worst of ways; she misses him, misses his touch and his taste. She misses the way he says her name, the way he moaned it under her touch, a thousand different things she never allowed herself to miss because she could always have it if it wanted it, could always ignore the consequences and take what she pleased.

She realizes, as boring as Mystic Falls is, she's been here because Damon is and, somehow, that makes things alright, makes everything eerily routine but, in a way she couldn't express, _worthwhile_. It was everything she wanted once, so close and so far from the human life she could have had.

Katherine thinks and realizes, maybe she will go on one wild massacre on the village people in this town – or maybe she will take a luxury cruise to a Hawaiian island, but it's not the life she has with him now, not the life she could have if he was with her.

And, now that she's realized it, there's no way she can go to Hawaii without him, because all she knows is she wants to roll around naked in the sand with Damon, let him rub sunscreen on her back, let him spoil her and insult her and fuck her senseless – make her feel like she can't live without him because she _can't_.

_Fuck_, runs through her mind, because it's the most adequate thing Katherine has thought this past week.

She hates being wrong.

* * *

><p>(Title of chapter is from a Depeche Mode song.)<p>

Next chapter will be more from Damon's POV, it'll have Datherine interaction – all that good stuff.

Basically, this was my Katherine breather. I needed it.

As far as "the way Katherine is" – I don't see Katherine losing her flirtatious nature, which is partly what's striking a chord in this fic; if Katherine made it clear that she loved Damon, she was his and only his, the flirting would be less of an issue, but the way Katherine plays games, it's killing him. Now, she needs to figure out what those games are worth, in the long run.

Anyone confused about Damon and Katherine in Hawaii?

_What happened to Katherine? Where did she go after the finale?_

Julie: Katherine's in Hawaii for the very special Hawaiian episode.

Ian: And Damon goes to Hawaii and they just roll around naked.

And the sunscreen comment from their phone call.

There's enough there to make a really great vacation fic – now, I could never do it, but still a perfect idea with lost of beach sex. This would be, like a dream fic.

Please, leave a review – suggestions, comments, critique. I'm up for all of it! ;)


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